


baby, i am a wreck when i'm without you

by crud



Series: mcyt [8]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Abandonment, Break Up, Breaking Up & Making Up, Depression, Dream Needs A Hug, Established Relationship, Fights, Getting Back Together, Heartbreak, Kissing, Loneliness, M/M, Panic Attacks, Sapnap is only mentioned, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, he gets one :D, he is not taking care of himself at all, this is so sad for dream, unhealthy eating habits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:00:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27680384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crud/pseuds/crud
Summary: What had the fight even been about?Dream wished he couldn't remember it so clearly-George leaves the apartment after a fight with Dream.Dream is certain he won't be coming back.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound, GeorgeNotFound & SapNap
Series: mcyt [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2010730
Comments: 28
Kudos: 408
Collections: Download fics





	baby, i am a wreck when i'm without you

**Author's Note:**

> uh hey :D i was sad LMFAO this mean dream gets to be sad  
> this is me projecting <3
> 
> this is the one longest oneshot i've written, i think, haha
> 
> (if dream or george ever say they don't want to be shipped, i will take this down)

Dream watched, silent, as George grabbed his coat, his phone, walked out the door– left his keys behind.

Would he come back? Dream could understand if he didn’t, if he never returned, if he left Dream there to rot away in the apartment they’d purchased together with all their belongings.

_ “You don’t really love me,” Dream spat. George went dead silent, just for a second, a simmering sort of rage in his eyes as he stared up at Dream. _

_ “Yeah?” He asked, monotone, his mouth twisted into an ugly scowl. “Then what the fuck am I wasting my time here for?” _

Dream swallowed the lump in his throat, rubbed his dry eyes, hard, trying to bring himself to start crying. He was breaking, shattering without George, surely he should look the part. Right?

  
  
  


He was still gone the next morning.

Dream had almost convinced himself he’d been having a nightmare. It wouldn’t be the first time. He would wake up, and George would be there, smiling, ready to mock him for waking up so late, ready to comfort him.

He was gone, though, which meant Dream was wrong. What had the argument even started as?

Something stupid, something to do with whether or not Patches was old. When had the banter become biting? When did the jokes stop being funny? Where did they start to cross the line?

_ “Oh, come on!” Dream snickered. “I still love you, and  _ you’re  _ old!” _

_ George laughed, eyes squinting as he leaned over to swat at Dream’s shoulder “Yeah, I’m beginning to think it’s your thing.” _

It was so lighthearted. What happened? 

… Where was George?

  
  
  


A week later, Dream still hadn’t heard from George.

Neither had Sapnap. Or, if he had, George had told him not to tell Dream.

Dream figured he was doing alright, all things considered. He hadn’t showered in a few days, and he’d been sleeping on the couch. The bed felt cold, and the couch was no better, but it didn’t leave him with a too-big emptiness he was refusing to process or acknowledge.

He wasn’t sure when he’d last eaten, but he’d been drinking a lot of water, so he figured it was fine.

_ “What, are we gonna start getting Patches food for senior cats?” George snorted. _

_ “We should get you some of that,” Dream grinned down at George from the other side of the kitchen counter. _

_ “Just admit you would willingly eat cat food Dream, no one’s surprised.” _

He supposed he couldn’t really admit to willingly eating anything, recently. It was a good thing he never streamed anyway.

George announced he was going on a hiatus, on his Twitter, for personal reasons.  _ In more ways than one _ , Dream thought. He replied to George, to keep up appearances.

**_dream_ **

**_@dreamwastaken2_ **

**_hope it helps, love you man <3_ **

He pretended not to feel like his world was falling apart. George didn’t even like the reply.

  
  
  


It had been a month, and George had started streaming again. 

Dream tuned into each and every one, ignored the donos announcing Dream’s presence in chat, watched as George steadfastly did the same.

Once, George replied to one of those donations, “Guys, I can see that Dream is in chat.” He laughed, fake, but convincing to anyone who didn’t know him inside and out, who didn’t know him the way Dream did. “You don’t have to keep reminding me, I’m aware.”

Hearing his name, in George’s voice, in real time, for the first time in a month, is what finally broke him down. His chest was tight, and he scrambled for his phone with shaky hands, dropped it on the ground. His vision was blurring, and he wasn’t sure if it was from tears or hunger.

_ “What? Dream, why would you–?” George stopped, for a second, looking genuinely taken aback. _

_ Dream laughed, not taking it seriously. “Why would I what? Be right?” And George glowered back at him, a furrow between his brows. _

_ “No, you’re fucking _ wrong _.” _

_ George looked happy _ , Dream though, distantly, his breaths squeezing through the vice holding his throat tight. He got down on the floor, to retrieve his phone, and ended up curled beneath his desk, shuddering. For the first time since before George left him, Dream had tears running down his face, into his mouth, and he was choking on his own breaths. George had a different layout, in his streams. Did that mean he really wasn’t coming back.

  
  
  


He felt so cold, ever since George had left him.

Why was he so cold? He bought a heavier blanket, advertised as one of the best ones out there, which he supposed was just a marketing ploy, but it worked on him. It didn’t do much, and there was a permanent pain in his neck from sleeping on the couch and he no longer looked at the bedroom, and its doorknob that was slowly growing more and more dusty each passing day. 

Framed photos of him and George were now facedown, but not thrown away. Dream didn’t think he could ever throw them away. 

_ “I– George, what?” _

_ “Why the fuck would you say that?” _

_ “What did I say?” _

George messaged him on Twitter.

_ I do love you, for the record. _

Dream leaves him on read for a day or so, wondering how George felt being on the receiving end.

**_Really doesn’t feel like it._ **

He gets a reply instantly.

_ Well. figured you should know. _

**_At least tell me if you’re coming back_ ** **_(_ ** **_edited 2:09am)_ ** ****

**_At least tell me if we’re still together?_ **

_ … Do you still want to be? _

**_please_ **

_ Then yes _

A few days pass.

_ And yes, by the way, I’ll come back. _

Dream wished he could believe him.

  
  
  


Two months since Dream had last seen George, and he’d stopped looking at mirrors. The last time he’d seen himself he’d looked straight out of a Tim Burton movie; hair disheveled, greasy and matted, heavy bags under his eyes, his face too thin. He didn’t have to look at a mirror to see the fragility of his waist, to feel his ribs against his skin when he moved, but they made it easier, so he avoided them. 

Patches was good, though. He made sure to take care of Patches. 

Patches was there, and stable, and provided warmth against the chill he felt invaded every part of him.

A knock at the door and he opened it on autopilot, eyes pointed down at his feet, not wanting to see the judgement in the eyes of whoever this visitor was, only for a soft, familiar voice to make him snap his gaze back up.

“Dream?” George whispered. Dream could see nothing but concern in his eyes, maybe regret, maybe something else that Dream’s vision was blurring too much to properly identify, and he shivered. “Baby?” Dream let out a soft sob, fell forward against George, his arms wrapping around him tightly in the middle of the hallway leading to the apartment. 

George stumbled back a step, catching Dream and holding him up with ease, probably too much ease, then guided them both into the apartment, closing the door behind him, and sitting them down on the couch. “Love… I’m so sorry.”   
_ George was warm _ , Dream thought. George was also there, taking Dream’s breath away and he’d said practically nothing.

“... was my fault anyway,” Dream replied, his voice shaky and rough from disuse, his throat protesting against it. “Deserve it, probably.”

“ _ No _ ,” George said, immediately, as though the thought had never crossed his mind. “No, Dream, you didn’t deserve that. The fight was on both of us, but me disappearing? That was on me, love, and you did not deserve it.” George’s breaths sounded like they were starting to grow shaky, like he was about to start crying, and Dream tightened his grip on George’s waist, burrowed his head into George’s shoulder.

“It was cold without you,” Dream murmured into his neck, surrounded by warmth as George’s arms, strong in a way Dream’s hadn’t been for weeks, tightened around him. “Where were you?”

“I stayed with Sapnap,” He said, whispered into Dream’s dirty hair in a voice that was starting to sound a bit raw. “He talked me through some things, let me use his setup. I just put a blanket up in the background so no one would figure it out.” Sapnap’s apartment was two blocks away. He was that close?

“... So I wouldn’t figure it out.”

George winced. “Yeah.” His voice softened, and he pulled Dream closer to him. “What happened to you, Dream, why haven’t you been taking care of yourself?” 

“What was the point?” He laughed, bitter, into George’s shoulder. “Patches is okay, though. Misses you.” Quieter, he adds: “I thought you weren’t coming back. Wasn’t much of a motivator to fix my hair or anything when I’d ruin it by sleeping on the couch anyway.”

“Couch?”

“Bed was too empty. It was cold.”   
“Baby, it’s summer.”   
“It’s cold.”

George sighed. “Let me make you something to eat, then? And something for your throat?” Dream nodded, and he continued, running a hand through Dream’s hair. “Go shower? Put on some clean clothes? I’ll be right here when you’re done, I promise.” Dream nodded, again, and they separated briefly.

Dream did not look at himself as he showered, just washed his hair and scrubbed the dirt off his body and toweled himself off. When he returned to George, he was wearing sweatpants and an oversized hoodie belonging to George that the older man had purchased because Dream had been complaining about being unable to steal any of his small ones.

Sure enough, George was still there. He was sitting at their counter with two mugs of chamomile tea and two sandwiches. “Dream,” George smiled at him. They both were ignoring the tension in the air, for the time being. “Come here.”

Dream sat next to him, rather than across, craving the comfort and warmth that their shoulders brushing against each other brought him. The tea was hot, warming his palms as he gripped the much with both hands, then that same warmth spreading to the rest of him as he drank, slowly. 

George’s eyes were on him, he knew, but he found he didn’t care. It meant George was there. George’s presence was affirmed in the touch of his shoulder, in the sound of his chewing, in the feeling of his eyes on Dream. He’d missed it. He’d missed George. He’d missed feeling warm, and alive, and like he existed. He hadn’t been sure of the last one, for a bit.

They finished eating, Dream long after George, having to pause multiple times just to make sure he wasn’t asleep. 

They sat in silence, for a while, that Dream tried to break. “George–”   
George cut him off.    
“Let’s go to bed, Dream,” George said, something sad in the smile he sent Dream. “We can talk things through in the morning.” And Dream agreed, because what else was he to do?

George said nothing about the dust on the bedroom doorknob, so Dream pretended not to notice it, nor did he say anything about the clearly unslept in bedsheets, or the way there were crumpled sheets of lined paper around the trash bin, the words  _ “Dear George,” _ visible on the majority.

They just settled into bed, together, George’s arms holding Dream flush against him once more, and Dream found his voice once again.

“George… can I… can you, please… can you kiss me, please?” 

And George didn’t reply, just hummed, low in his throat, and tilted Dream’s face up, kept his grip on Dream’s chin gentle as he pressed their lips together softly. It was warm, warmer than Dream had been in months, and he felt the last of the chill plaguing him fall away for the time being as he pressed in closer, chasing the warmth he’d been missing for so long.

The argument had been about something stupid, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> hey !! hope you enjoyed, or it made you cry, or smth, that'd be cool. leave a kudos/comment if you did !! please tell me if it made you cry, so i can laugh at you :D
> 
> yes, i stan dream, that's why i hurt him :// the kins get the angst hammer /j i'm not a dream kinnie
> 
> i am @patroiocus on twitter, if you wanna drop by and say hello. my dms are also open !!


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